Sherlock Was a Fraud
by Coseepo
Summary: Just a little piece of post-Reichenbach angst looking at Lestrade because I had writer's block. See A/N for details. T for safety. Also includes recommendations for Reichenbach playlists ;D


**Just a random little piece of post-Reichenbach angst while I work on my other stuff. It started off being about Lestrade, because, well, I loved how much their friendship was explored in the last episode. It kind of changed because I didn't have a goal. Was written while I was listening to my Reichenbach playlist (because I'm just that cool - see end A/N for list of songs), the most important of which I will share here because it just applies so much. Check out 'Winter' by Joshua Radin, fits really well, especially the bridge - 'I could have lost myself in rough blue waters in your eyes, And I miss you still', which doesn't sound like it fits but whatever. I'll probably make a youtube vid for that song (see my profile).**

**ANYWAY ENOUGH WAFFLE.**

Lestrade sat at his desk, frowning, hands under his chin in a vaguely Sherlock-esque pose. He had _had _to arrest Sherlock, he reasoned. He would have lost his job if he hadn't. But then, it looked like that would happen anyway. When he had grabbed that gun… Lestrade's heart had just dropped. He frowned even more at the memory. If Sherlock needed the gun, was Sally right? Was Sherlock guilty? He couldn't be. No, Lestrade definitely trusted him. Absolutely. But he had still ordered everyone to get down. Had he _really _thought Sherlock would kill one of them? He hadn't _really _ thought Sherlock would take John hostage. He hadn't _really _thought Sherlock would take a gun. He hadn't _really _thought Sherlock would resist arrest that much. He hadn't _really _thought he would ever need to arrest Sherlock.

"Phone call, sir."

Lestrade hadn't even noticed the door opening.

"Not right now," he snapped. He knew it wasn't Sally's fault. Not really. She was just doing her duty. But it didn't stop him from resenting her for it.

"They say it's important, sir, they want to speak to you personally? It's St. Bart's Hospital."

"Fine." She walked over to the desk and handed it over, before he shooed her away. He put the phone to his ear.

"Hello?"

From outside, Sally, watching with mild interest, watched the hard lines disappear from his face, but rather than making him seem soothed, his face almost collapsed. He looked suddenly despondent.

"Are… are you sure…? … Christ. Yeah, I'l-I'll come right over, yeah. Bye."

He hung up, dropping the phone to the desk. His mouth was slightly open. Slowly, very slowly, his now-empty eyes moved upwards, and they found Sally's as she stared from outside. He looked at her for a long time, but she couldn't read his expression.

At long last, he rose, just as slowly as his eyes had, from his seat. He seemed to have aged a great deal in a short space of time, wearily taking his jacket from the stand in the corner and trudging over to the door. As he passed Sally, he again looked at her, but it was for a shorter moment this time.

"Sir?" She was met only with silence as her DI disappeared through the doors and out of the office.

When Lestrade entered the foyer of the hospital, the first thing he saw was an empty, broken man, sitting alone on a bench, a shock blanket still drooped over his shoulders, staring, glassy-eyed, dead ahead of him.

"Christ."

He ran over, his mind once again away from himself. "Christ, John, I'm sorry, I completely forgot."

John didn't answer. He didn't seem to even register Lestrade was even there. Lestrade sighed, slowly closing his eyes. Why, _Sherlock? Why did you have to do this?_

He dropped himself onto the bench beside the army doctor. "John, I… I'm so, so sorry. Sherlock… Christ, what the Hell happened the last few months?" He rubbed his eyes with the hilt of his palm, almost trying to push them so far into his sockets that he couldn't see anymore.

Then, awkwardly, he placed a hand on John's shoulder, and squeezed. "I just want you to know, I don't believe that he was a fake."

John cleared his throat. "You should." His voice was emotionless. He still stared straight ahead, was still unmoving. "He said I should. He said you should."

The army doctor felt empty inside, didn't know how to feel. But he did know, however it might hurt, however little he believed it himself, however much he wanted to tell everyone he could the truth, he had to at least honour Sherlock's last wish for Lestrade and Mrs. Hudson.

As tears welled in his eyes, he opened his mouth to the poisonous lie again.

"Sherlock was a fraud."

**So, random ending, yup.**

**MY REICHENBACH PLAYLIST:**

**No Surprises - Radiohead**

**I Will Remember You - Sarah McLachlan**

**Winter - Joshua Radin**

**When You're Gone - Avril Lavigne**

**Seasons in the Sun - Terry Jacks**

**Fix You - Coldplay**

**Hear You Me - Jimmy Eat World**

**In My Veins - Andrew Belle**


End file.
